


sweet as honey and milk

by Anonymous



Series: drunk on you [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Begging, Bottom GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Bratting, Crying, Dirty Talk, Emotional Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Sex, Hoodies, Kissing, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Coital Cuddling, Praise Kink, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sharing Clothes, Size Difference, Teasing, Top Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29770338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Warm summer evenings have a way of making everything honey-sweet. Dream loves them best when he has George wearing a hoodie two sizes too big and everything is pink and gold like the sunset.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: drunk on you [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066274
Comments: 17
Kudos: 677
Collections: anonymous





	sweet as honey and milk

**Author's Note:**

> Do not mention or send this to CCs. Be respectful of relationships.
> 
> I also wrote 'this side of paradise' and 'red wine heat' in the series.

It's late afternoon when they start, that hazy golden hour when all light looks a little softer and richer and heat hangs heavy all about them. George lays in their bed with the gold dancing in his hair, in his eyes, on his smile, on the hoodie that's so big it covers him from neck to mid-thigh.

The hoodie is _huge_ on him. Black fabric, brown eyes, golden all around. The light has a way of making everything look honey-soaked, softening the contrast between George's pale skin and the dark fabric and making him look all of a piece, something perfectly made to be right here in his bed. Dream feels high on the sight. The questions he's had since he saw him crowd up under his tongue- _where'd you get that, sweetheart, do you know you look like an angel?_

George speaks before he can untangle wants and words from each other.

'I think,' he says, mouth curving up full of heat and implication, 'I think your hoodie suits me.'

'It suits you so well,' Dream agrees. His hands sink _deep_ into the rumpled mess of black fabric until he finds George's narrow hips beneath it all, utterly swallowed up by the hoodie. 'God, does it suit you.'

'I thought you might like it.' George reaches up and pulls Dream in, sleeves riding down his arms to show pretty hands, narrow wrists. The hoodie bunches up between them and Dream breathes in-

'It smells like my cologne,' he says, barely daring to believe the words. 'Christ, George.'

'I know.' George is all teeth and fire, voice in his ear, in his _head_. His lips press to Dream's neck. 'Helps me sleep.'

_God_. He tightens his grip on his hips, but it doesn't stop his clever tongue, pretty mouth saying such sinful sweet things. George's eyes are wide and dilated and he smiles like a secret, eyes gleaming golden and soft. Dream's heart catches up to his dizzy head- he _loves_ him, so much. He's drunk on George and the way the summer afternoon lays on his skin. When they kiss, he tastes sweet as honey and milk.

'Come on, Dream,' he says with a mocking pout. His lower lip slides past his teeth, slow and red. 'Help me out.'

'You never know when to stop _talking,'_ Dream tells him wonderingly. He bites at the flush building in George's lip and he almost _purrs_.

'You like it.'

'Of course I do.' Dream kisses his neck, teeth against the front of his throat just to make him gasp. 'I love it.'

George is breathtaking laid out in the red sheets, head tossed back with a smile full of heat. He tugs up the hem of the hoodie, revealing the V-line in his hips. The light plays in the dip there.

' _George_ ,' Dream hisses. He's not wearing anything else underneath.

'Come on,' George urges again. He starts to pull the rest of it off, but Dream catches his hands.

'Keep it on. I want you in it.'

George raises an eyebrow in delight, cheeks reddening. 'If that's what you want.'

'I want you,' Dream says, as George's long legs spread for him, squeezing around his hips. 'I want you like this, baby.' 

'You have me.' George groans softly, sinking into the sheets as Dream presses a slick finger in. 'You always have me.'

'Always.' Dream is heady, barely able to remember words. Every time he twists his fingers up inside of him, George twitches and moans and the light on his skin shifts like feathers. The late sun is warm on his back, between his shoulder blades. It's so pretty watching him open up.

George pulls at his shirt, and Dream kneels back to unbutton it.

'It's not fair that you're still clothed,' he adds, watching every movement. The sun catches his hair and turns it to fire. 'Not when I'm wearing your things.'

'At least one of us can do that,' Dream agrees. He's fumbling with the buttons, too drunk on the sight of George laying there with spread legs to want to touch anything but him. 'I couldn't wear yours. I'd barely fit.'

That gets him a little gasp, George pushing himself up on the bed to look at him wild and wanting. Half-hidden by the fabric is the reddening curve of his cock. 

It's _beautiful_ knowing how much George wants him. Nobody else gets to see him undone and golden this way.

'I've thought that too,' he breathes, reaching over for the bottle on the bedside table, and Dream forgets everything except the sight of George's long, pretty fingers sinking into himself, the light playing on the hollows and tendons of his wrist as he twists his fingers _deeper_ , hips jerking up. He throws his head back, hair darkly haloed against the pillow, and spreads his thighs with his other hand.

Dream can't _breathe_.

'Still-' He gasps, cock dripping onto his stomach, and opens his honey-dark eyes. 'I'm sure you could make it fit.'

This is heaven, isn't it? Late summertime evenings where honey drips from George's pretty red-stained lips, where everything is sugar-sweet. He barely registers stripping his clothes off, because everything is George and George is everything he's ever wanted, fitting himself right here between his milky pale thighs, watching him spread himself open. 

_'George_ ,' he almost growls, and even this debauched he holds onto his fire and smiles like the sun.

'You always take your time.' 

He will. He'll take his time tonight, treat every gasp and slow second like the precious thing it is, until George can do nothing but lay there and beg. He'll give him everything he deserves.

'I think you're just impatient.' Dream settles back, holding George's thighs open to watch. His legs tense, and Dream rubs his thumb in teasing circles. Whenever he shifts his grip, the echo of his touch lingers in rosy pink, and the sight sends a hot curl of want through him. 'You need to learn to be patient, Georgie.'

George's gaze is fixed on the blushing pink fingerprints. His eyelashes are bright gold in the sunlight. For once, he doesn't snark back, just looks up with liquid eyes and whimpers a little as he pushes another finger in.

He looks like heaven _._ Pretty hands, muscles shifting beneath soft skin, pliant under Dream's gaze and his own touch. It's obscene in the sweetest way to see him opening himself up.

'You look amazing,' Dream says. He presses kisses to the inside of his thigh and nips, just barely, but it makes George gasp and his fingers curl inside of him. His hand drifts towards his cock across the black fabric, but Dream catches him. 'Not yet. You can be patient.'

'I'm patient enough.' George's eyes flutter. His fingers weave in Dream's, warm and gentle as sun. 'You just love to take your time.' His other hand twists and his body tenses, mouth open as he babbles out the rest, and the contrast of filthy and intimate feels so right. 'Love to _tease_.'

'How can I not, baby, when you look this pretty?' Dream licks at his inner thigh again, drunk on the gasps he can draw out with every mark. He eases George's fingers out of him and helps him onto his hands and knees, hips up, back arched so prettily. The hoodie drowns him, rides up around his waist, gathers around Dream's wrists as he grips his hips underneath it all. 

God, George is _so_ open. When Dream presses the tip of his cock against his hole, he yields with a flutter. It makes his head spin.

'You want me in your hoodie,' George repeats. The flush has spread across his face and down his neck, and he looks like the sunset, red mouth and honey eyes. 

'I want you so much,' Dream tells him, and he opens around him with a whimper, sinking in breathlessly easy. George whines as he takes it all the way in, hot and tight and beautiful, falling apart on the sheets. 'God, baby, I want you just like this.'

George pushes himself up with shaking arms, the hoodie draping around him. It softens all the lines of his body. Honey light glimmers across his skin.

'You can have me, as much as you want.'

Dream wants him like he wants the way he tastes sweet as honey and milk, like he wants nothing in the world as much as their bedroom with the sun glimmering on the water. If he were better with words, he'd be able to tell George about the way he kisses like a promise, about the way he _feels_ , like paradise itself. Warm honey slicks his tongue and all he can say is _beautiful, you're so good_ ; all he can do is take George as sweetly as he deserves. Every gasp and moan echoing in their room is proof of his love, the irrefutable promise that George is his, always, his to kiss and worship and _ruin._

'Can you put your hands on the headboard for me?' he asks.

'Why?' George looks back with a little smirk. 'At the pace you're going, I think I can hold myself up without needing anything to lean on.'

'You've got such an _attitude,_ ' Dream says in wonder, and starts rolling his hips in. 'It's not a question of holding yourself up, baby, because I'm gonna make sure you can't anyways. It's so you can learn to be patient.'

George rolls his eyes at him and braces his hands on the headboard. His knees spread further apart to balance himself. He looks like heaven.

'Perfect,' Dream says, smoothing a hand across his back, beneath the hoodie. With the new angle he can get deep, and he knows George likes it. His shoulders tense beneath the folds of fabric, the light playing in the tension of his jaw as Dream sinks _all_ the way in, bodies flush. His skin is warm.

'Oh,' George breathes. His knees slip further apart, and he barely struggles back up. 'Oh, God, are you-?'

'I'm all the way inside of you,' Dream tells him. It makes him heady, how tight and good it feels, how perfect George looks. 'You took it so well, stretched yourself out so nicely for me.'

'Dream.' George's hands tighten on the headboard. He throws his head back, pleasure and gold light painting his face. 'Feels like you _barely_ fit inside of me.' 

His hips jerk forward, George's whole body swaying. He's drunk on the honey wine of his words. 'George, baby, tell me that again?'

'Feels so full.' George takes him slick and easy, _greedy_. 'So deep. I want to-' He shifts, one hand flexing on the wood, unable to find his balance for long enough to take it away from the headboard. 

'You want to touch your cock?' Dream asks with a grin. 'You can't be patient for me?'

He sees him realize it, fire flashing in his eyes. ' _Dream_.'

'You can be patient. I know you can.' He sinks into him again, drunk on the way his body accepts it. 'Just relax, I promise I'll take care of you.'

Dream loves making him fall apart, and loves the way they fit together. Their bodies sway against each other like waves, George matching his every thrust like a dance. 

'That's so good,' Dream praises as George rocks back into his movement and moans. His pretty hands are tense and slipping against the wood, knuckles white with the effort as Dream takes him slow, rubbing circles in his thighs and the hollow of his hips. 'That's _perfect_ , baby, do you like it like this?'

'Love it, yes, _please_.' It's so sweet to hear him. His shoulders bow as he grinds himself back. His cock drips. 'I'm close.'

'Are you?' Dream slows. George's grip twitches on the headboard. His back is arched and his thighs shake in his hands.

'Yes,' he whines. 

'I bet you are. You're so tight around me. So pretty.' Dream runs one teasing fingertip down the length of his cock and returns his hands to George's thighs as he keeps moving. George makes a desperate, confused, gorgeous sound. His hands finally slip and knot tight in the bedsheets.

'Dream?' he asks. His voice wavers.

'Yes, baby?' Dream grins. Normally he'd touch George now, have him coming over his hand all sugar-sweet and gasping while Dream fucks him, but not today. It's pretty to see how he _expects_ that now, so spoiled.

'You _know_ what I mean.' George grinds back against him. 'Touch me.'

'You can ask nicer than that. Hands back on the headboard, okay?'

'Can't.' George struggles up and Dream grinds deep, and he slumps back down again. His eyelashes flutter, like gold foil against his red cheeks. _'Can't_. Please touch me.'

'You can't hold yourself up anymore?' Dream bends down to press kisses to the small of his back, breathing in the scent of the hoodie and his soft skin. There are faint freckles in the dip of his spine, and he kisses each one. He adores them, he adores George so much. 'Why not?'

'Stop _teasing_ , Dream.' Oh, he sounds so hoarse and needy that Dream has to stop moving, biting the inside of his cheek and closing his eyes to keep from falling apart.

Even then, the sight of George dripping in gold and want, angelic beautiful, burns behind his eyelids. So lax with pleasure that his hips are only held up by Dream's grip on them, face down, clutching the sheets with the hoodie draped all around him. Unable to do anything but take him in and feel good.

'I know,' Dream says, pulling out to turn him onto his back. George hisses softly. 'I promise I'll let you come, just not yet. Can you be patient for me?'

God, the sight of his face sends a new rush of heat through him. He's so red and gorgeous and _perfect,_ eyes heat-glazed, drowning in his hoodie. He swallows, the bulb of his throat moving, and spreads his legs more so Dream can kiss him.

'I can,' he says softly.

'I know you can. You're always so good.' Dream slips back into him and George falls apart. 

He thinks it might be teasing when he pulls out and kisses marks up the inside of George's thighs, but how can he resist when George whines so prettily, when he looks so good all flushed and desperate and covered with pink blush and gold light and black fabric? It would be a sin _not_ to make sure George holds the memories of his love on his skin, of every kiss and touch.

He _knows_ it's teasing when he fucks him deep and slow and doesn't touch his cock even once, no matter how much George whines for it, no matter how pretty he looks when he reaches for it himself.

'Not yet,' Dream soothes, weaving their fingers together. 'You can hold on for me, George. I know you can. I'll let you come, but you have to wait. You said you'd be patient for me.'

 _'Clay_ ,' he whimpers, and Dream kisses him deep. He loves it, he loves the way his name sounds wrapped in George's voice, in the cadence of his need. George is always so good to him.

'That's right,' he croons. 'I'm here, baby. I'm here for you.'

'Clay, I'm so close.' George clenches down _hard,_ and Dream hisses, _want want want_ spinning through his head. 'Gonna come, can I, please can I?'

His words are heated and slurred and so, so sweet and he's so heart-stoppingly perfect that Dream almost doesn't notice his other hand wrapping around his cock. 

'I said _no_ , baby.' He takes it and presses both his wrists down to the sheets. He doesn't stop moving, _can't_ , George is honey-sweet wine and he is drowning at the bottom of the bottle. 'I'm the only one who gets to make you come.'

George looks up at him with glassy eyes, looking so beautifully wrecked that Dream can't help but kiss him. His whole body goes pliant beneath his hands, head lolling back against the sheets, giving himself up. _'Clay.'_

He's tight and twitching in the way he only gets when he's close, and the idea knocks Dream breathless. He wants that, he wants to see George come untouched, just on his cock like this- but _not yet,_ not while they're both dancing on the edge of paradise and George is helpless with his own want. Not when Dream is looking at heaven itself, warm summer evening with the sun starting to set, dappling their room in shades of crimson and George the angel dripping holiness and honey and milk in the middle of it all.

George's kiss-marked thighs squeeze around him as everything else shakes from Dream fucking him just right. His eyes open, unseeing and gilded with light, and he gasps.

_'Clay-'_

Dream stops and George _sobs,_ tears glimmering in his eyelashes, trembling with being denied. He's _beautiful._

'Clay, please, I was- I was so close, I was coming.'

'I know you were.' He presses the gentlest kisses to George's heaving chest. 'It's only a little longer, I promise. I always give you what you need, don't I?'

With a last shuddering noise, George goes lax.

Oh, it's so hard to hold himself back when George is fluttering and clenching around him like this, when he begs so prettily and Dream knows wholly and forever that this is all for him, only him. George only gives it up like this when it's them alone in the late sunlight and he feels safe _._ Dream wants that, he wants to be safe haven to this angel, he wishes he could make the entire world better for him. He wishes that he could make time slow like honey and hold them in this summer evening where the sun wavers on the horizon and the only noise is George begging for him, for more, to be fucked and made to come and _broken._ He wants this to be their paradise.

'So good.' Dream touches him, lets himself touch him in a way he never dares. The honeycomb of gold and red light draws him in, sinks him into George's warmth. He is an angel and this is the only heaven he knows. 'I'm almost done, sweetheart, I promise, you won't have to wait much longer.'

George blinks up at him, mouth open, and his fingers curl loosely in Dream's hair. 'Promise?'

'I promise. You've been so patient. I'm going to make you come very soon, because you've been so good. Let's get your hoodie off, okay?'

George nods. Dream gently slides his hands beneath the fabric and works it off him, revealing blushing skin velvet with sweat. The light plays across him in harmony and Dream has to take a moment just to gaze in awe and wonder how anyone could look at him and not want him in this worshipful way.

George's hands find his shoulders and breaks him from his reverie.

'Here, let me help you up, sweetheart.' He lifts him, heat-lax and fucked out, shaking with need, and settles him into his lap. He's so open that Dream's cock sinks back into him like it was made to be there, like this is all they both need, each other and liquid gold in the summer evening. 'Oh God, beautiful. You're doing so well.'

'Please,' he breathes. His arms drape around Dream's shoulders and his skin is warm with love. His legs are trembling too much to lift himself, to do anything but sit there filled up and desperate. 'Please let me come, I've been-' His voice breaks. _'So good.'_

'You have,' Dream soothes, brushing his hair back from his face, kissing him softly, softly. Heaven sings between them. 'I'll take care of you, you don't have to move right now. I'll give you everything you need.'

George is painted red as the sun starts to set, throwing sunset streaks all across the walls of their room. It creeps across his trembling thighs in bars that mirror Dream's fingers. Every kiss is sweet as honey and milk.

As good as the hoodie looked against his skin, this is even better. His thighs are milky-pale and every single fingerprint and kiss glows. He looks borne from star and sunset, lavender and carmine and honey.

'Clay,' he begs. Dream rocks up into him, slow and warm. Like waves. He smooths his hand down George's back, brushing every ridge of his spine, and believes fully and wholly that George could have been shaped by God and the angels and nothing less.

 _'Look_ at you, baby.' He follows the lines of his body, down his hips, down his thighs. The light drips across his skin like honey, painted on a masterpiece. 'You're so beautiful.'

'Clay, please. I've- I've waited. I've been patient.' His voice trembles. 'I'm so, so close.'

'I know you are, you're doing so well.' Dream kisses him gently, heart pounding at the soft moan he draws out. 'You look so good, I just want to keep you like this for a little longer, okay? Can you do that for me?'

He can see the desperation in his honey-dark eyes, want and need so close together they seem the same. He drinks it all in. He loves this, that he can make George like this. He is desperately and endlessly in love with George in the sunset, with the golden light sliding down his skin while he shakes apart in Dream's lap.

'You don't have to do anything,' he croons. 'Just put your hands here, on your thighs? I'll hold you up.'

George carefully lets go of his shoulders, lip caught between his teeth, and spreads his long, pretty fingers over his pale thighs. His knuckles are red and the contrast is gorgeous. 

'That's it, that's _perfect_. You're perfect. You're so good.'

Dream is heady, words rushing into each other, but he holds George right where he looks so good, legs spread around him. George gasps something jumbled into his neck, _your voice, your hands, you, please._

'I'll be done soon. I promise I will, you've done so well.' He grips George's hips and both of them tense and shudder against each other at how right it looks, how good it feels. 'Just tell me what you want.'

George, swaying there with his hands on his thighs, sunset on his skin, all full of Dream's cock, is the prettiest thing he's ever seen. He swallows, eyes fluttering, trying to make sense of words.

'I want you to fuck me,' he begs. 'I want to come, please.'

'Like this?' He holds onto George's hips and lifts him, a groan torn from his throat when he lets go and George takes it in so well. 'Can you come from this?'

'Yes,' he cries. 'Clay, _Clay_ , please. I want- I _need_ to come on your cock. I need you to come inside me.'

Dream can't think for a moment, only want so much it hurts. He lifts George again, narrow hips, easy for him, and rolls his hips sharply up when he falls. 

George _wails_.

His fingers dig into his own thighs and he whines, high and overwhelmed, and holds on _tighter,_ leaving blushing rosy marks up the milky skin. Dream's head spins, grinding up into him harder, deeper, leaving his handprints on his hips. The world is nothing but him, George, and the way he pleads Dream for more like it's his life's purpose.

'Want you, need you, need you inside of me.' When they kiss, Dream tastes salt.

'I'll give you everything, sweetheart. I want to make you come until you can't remember anything but how to take my cock and cry my name, want to make you feel so good, I want you so much, all the time.'

'Clay.' George's mouth against his, arms around his neck. 'I'm coming, can I? Please? I've been so good, please.'

'My angel,' Dream croons. 'My beautiful George. I want you to come just like this.' He kisses his neck, his brow, his open mouth. 'Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Can you come just from my cock filling you up?'

Gold and red and George, everything is sweet and slick and holy as milk and honey. The tears in his eyelashes catch the sun as he swallows, thighs squeezing around him, body trembling, beautifully and perfectly his.

'Yes,' he whimpers.

'Then come for me, George,' he says, wanting, wishing, praying.

And he does, finally, shaking and ruined. Dream fucks his orgasm out of his trembling body, heart pounding, filthy prayer tumbling out in words and praise and _good, you're so good_ , because George looks like an angel in the end of the sunset. His angel, his George, his _everything_ , coming so pretty on his cock, eyes glazed and mouth open and _crying_ , crying for Dream, crying _thank you thank you thank you for letting me come_ -

'Oh my God,' Dream gasps, and takes his cock in hand. George sobs, thighs tightening around him. 'That's right, sweetheart, come for me, just like that. You can let go now, beautiful, it's okay.'

He coaxes his orgasm out in overwhelming clenching pulses, giving him everything he deserves. Heaven sings all around them, in the rare spaces their bodies don't touch. Heat and gold hold them together as they fall apart in each other and the starscape of their endless love.

'Clay,' George sobs, over and over. 'Clay, thank you, _thank you_.'

'I'm right here,' Dream promises. White dribbles over his fingers and down George's thighs. He shudders, sobbing brokenly, pliant and utterly overwhelmed. 'You can come. I have you, George, you're safe, you're so good for me, _beautiful_. You can let go for me, you can let me take care of you.'

He's so close, and every thrust into George's overstimulated body has him writhing. He wants, he loves, he _has_ him, George, the most beautiful person he's ever known, sweet as honey and milk. 

'I love you so much,' Dream breathes. He can see George hold his own thighs tighter as he kisses him and falls off that edge, sweet fire rushing in his head as he comes. It feels like paradise. 

'I love you,' Dream says, over and over, tasting honey and milk and love. George clenches desperately around him as he's filled up, whimpering into Dream's neck, _love you love you love you._ 'I love you so much.'

He pulls out and the last of it catches George's shaking thighs, spattering across his milky skin, white on the red sheets as Dream lays him down. George sinks into the pillows, ruined and _glowing,_ the most beautiful thing in the world. 

Dream sinks down beside him. The sky is purple and pink outside, dancing in his eyelashes. White drips from between his legs.

'You did so well.' Dream feels shaky and overwhelmed by his own love. 'Beautiful.'

When he kisses him, he can feel George's gentle smile. It would be hard to see any other time, but as he wipes them both down and sleep draws over them both like purple night, George's smile glows in the end of the sunset.

**Author's Note:**

> This series will be de-anoned once I write a few more chapters for the work that inspired 'this side of paradise'.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for the amazing response to this series! :)
> 
> -ANON


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